


Who Needs the Spa When You Have Dean Winchester?

by Anna_Heyward



Series: In Between Days 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Massage, Rimming, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dean decides to give Cas a massage for his birthday. </p><p>This is the massage/sex scene that takes place in the middle of chapter 29 of In Between Days. It can be read as a standalone PWP, however.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Who Needs the Spa When You Have Dean Winchester?

**Author's Note:**

> Dean decides to give Cas a massage for his birthday. 
> 
> This is the massage/sex scene that takes place in the middle of chapter 29 of In Between Days. It can be read as a standalone PWP, however.

They were nearing the end of their third episode of Chopped when Dean slapped his hands against Cas’ shins. “Be right back.”

Cas pulled his legs off Dean’s lap and nodded, eyes still glued to the TV. The contestants were plating their dinner entrées, and the fancy executive chef who’d spent the better part of the episode bragging about his skills was _thisclose_ to leaving one of his ingredients out. Cas couldn’t wait to watch this narcissistic asshole go down.

Around the time the desserts were wrapped up Dean reappeared. “Excuse me, Mr. Milton?”

He was standing in the doorway wearing just his boxer briefs, and seemed the slightest bit nervous; it was enough for Cas to grab the remote and mute the sound. “What’s wrong? Why are you undressed?”

“Sir, I was wondering if you were ready for your massage now.”

Cas startled at that. “Wait, you were serious? I thought we were just kidding around.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, if you don’t desire my services…”

“No! I do.” Cas reached over and turned the TV off, the dessert round forgotten in favor of a mostly-naked Dean rubbing him up and down. “I do.”

“Good,” Dean smirked. “I wouldn’t want my skills to go to waste.”

Cas crossed the room and pulled Dean into his arms. “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, reaching up to pull Dean into a kiss.

Dean twisted his head out of Cas’ grasp. “Hey, hey. No touching the help. Let’s keep this strictly professional, there, buddy.”

That finally got Cas’ attention, the pieces falling into place. He and Dean had never done this before; suddenly Cas’ exhaustion vanished, replaced with sheer curiosity. “Yes, sir. Please accept my apology. It won’t happen again.”

“Very well, sir. Right this way.” Dean waved toward the doorway. “If you’ll please, just follow me.”

Cas followed Dean through the door and toward the stairs. Dean had scattered rose petals trailing up the stairs and into his bedroom. It was all so unabashedly romantic and so unlike Dean.

No, scratch that – it was unlike the façade that Dean put on for the rest of the world, that Dean who chopped wood shirtless, and flirted shamelessly with every single female waitress ever, and drank his coffee black as tar. But the real Dean that existed underneath? The one that learned how to make shrimp & grits for his boyfriend, and cried watching Frozen, and sang his niece to sleep? _That_ was the real Dean, the one that no one but Cas got to see. Making a rose petal trail to his bedroom was _absolutely_ something that this Dean would do.

Dating a man for a mere three months was hardly long enough for Dean to become comfortable with the fact that this side of himself existed, however, so for tonight, they would role-play.

Cas was perfectly okay with that.

Dean opened the door to his bedroom ever so slowly, and Cas’ breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight. Dean had covered every surface of the room with candles, presumably the same ones he’d used for their first date. A soft, New Age-y CD played – and where the hell had Dean even gotten a hold of one of those? The comforter had been stripped from the bed in favor of new sheets and a couple of folded towels. And the room smelled – Cas scented the air, trying to place it.

“It’s lavender,” Dean said. “One of those plug-in scented oil things.”

Even with the candlelight, Cas could see Dean’s cheeks blush. Dean was so proud of himself for thinking of such a small detail, and he almost broke character. He quickly realized his mistake, however, and schooled his features. “So, um, sir,” Dean continued, clearing his throat, “I’ll step out while you get undressed. Lay down on the bed, get comfortable, and cover yourself with the sheet. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Cas could hardly keep the grin off his face. It was just delicious watching Dean stumble over himself to try and remain “professional.” Forget the Easy Bake oven he got when he turned 7; this was his best birthday present ever. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Dean nodded, gave a little bow, and stepped into the hallway. Cas stood there for a minute, imagining Dean standing just outside the doorway. Was he hyperventilating from nervousness? Trying to calm down a raging hard-on? Was he listening for the sounds of Cas’ clothes being shed and hitting the floor?

Cas unbuttoned his shirt, making sure to rustle the fabric a little more than usual. He unbuckled his pants as loudly as he could and slid them down his legs, letting his belt hit the floor with an exaggerated “clink.” Shoes, socks, and boxer shorts soon followed; Dean may be doing this partially clothed, but Cas was certainly not going to. He sauntered over to the bed and lay down on his back. “I’m ready, sir,” he called out, hands folded behind his head.

Dean came back inside and gave an involuntary cough as he spotted Cas lying there completely naked and completely ignoring the sheet that he was supposed to cover up with. “Okay, yeah.” Dean stopped and cleared his throat. “Very good.”

He walked around toward the front of the bed and grabbed the bottle of oil from the nightstand, and returned to the bed, kneeling between Cas’ feet. “We’ll start with your feet. ‘Lotta tension there.”

Cas nodded, unable to take his eyes off Dean. Dean dripped oil onto his hands and rubbed them together, warming the cold oil. He took Cas’ right foot into his hands and began to massage, pressing this thumbs into the balls of Cas’ feet, and any and all pretense that Cas had about trying to tease Dean during this process flew out the window as an involuntary moan escaped his lips. _Holy_ _shit_ , that felt good.

And Dean had only touched his foot.

Dean’s hands were magic, turning the muscles in Cas’ foot to jelly. He worked his way up Cas’ leg, massaging the calf muscle between his hands before returning to the arch of the foot. He stopped and poured more oil onto his hands and switched feet, and Cas whimpered. Goddamn, Dean was good at this.

He worshipped Cas’ left foot every bit as much as the right, until Cas melted into the mattress, the stress of the past week of school completely gone. And just when Cas thought he was on the verge of drifting off to sleep, Dean’s hands began working their way north. His fingers skimmed along the insides of Cas’ legs, up and down, getting just a little farther each time. Cas could feel his cock begin to twitch as Dean’s hands came closer and closer, at last just barely grazing the crease of his legs and oh so close to where Cas wanted them the most, his cock now standing at complete attention in anticipation.

“Okay, sir, if you’ll please turn over, I’ll do your back now,” Dean announced.

Fucking tease. Cas sighed and turned over, pillowing his head on his hands.

He felt the change in weight on the bed behind him as Dean stood up, presumably to come lean over the bed to rub his back. Instead, Cas felt the bed dip once again as Dean crawled over him and sat down on the backs of his legs, and _holy shit_ , Cas could now feel the wet drag of Dean’s naked cock across his ass as Dean settled into place.

Dean was straddling him, completely naked, and Cas was face-down on the bed and couldn’t see any of it. Visions of Dean straddling him while he was face-up came flooding into his mind – Dean riding him, head thrown back in pleasure as he felt Cas’ cock inside him for the first time, gasping unexpectedly as he found his prostate – and suddenly Cas was rock-hard, his erection digging uncomfortably into the mattress beneath him.

Cold oil drizzled across his back, and Cas gave an involuntary shudder. “Aren’t you supposed to warm that up first? Sir?”

Dean draped his body over Cas’ as he bent low to whisper in Cas’ ear. “Thought you could use some cooling down, _Mr. Milton_.” He punctuated the last with a low growl, and no, there was no way Cas was cooling off any time soon.

Dean grazed his fingers along the muscles of Cas’ spine, so feather-light it made Cas shiver. He massaged in long strokes until the oil was warmed, covering every inch of skin along Cas’ back, finally stopping to dig his hands into Cas’ neck. Strong, calloused fingers rubbed along either side of his spine while the thumbs stroked in circles just below the hairline, eventually working their way down to where neck met shoulder, growing more assured as shoulder muscles faded into arm muscles. Back and forth Dean worked his hands in long, confident strokes against each muscle.

He widened his strokes, pressing the heels of his hands further south into Cas’ back muscles, causing Cas to groan forcefully when he hit a knot of tension between Cas’ shoulder blades. From that point on, the dam broke; whatever noises Cas had previously been trying to stifle he could no longer hold in.

“Oh God, Dean,” Cas moaned. “Right there. Fuck.”

Dean alternately dug his knuckles and the heels of his hands into the long cords of muscle along Cas’ spine, causing Cas’ hips to start rolling into the mattress. The release of tension in his back was slowly being replaced with a different kind of tension, coiling low in his belly as he began thrusting shallowly into the mattress, whimpering helplessly. Cas could feel Dean’s erection sliding against the cleft of his ass, dripping precum, and holy Christ, he wanted it inside him.

But Dean suddenly got up, leaving Cas feeling cold and empty. He hoped to God it was because Dean was grabbing lube and condoms, because Jesus, he wanted Dean to fuck him. Cas felt the mattress dip further down between his legs, felt Dean’s hands on his ass cheeks, spreading them apart, and then _oh god, oh god, oh god, that’s Dean’s mouth._

The cry tore from his throat as he felt Dean lick in short strokes along his hole. He raised up onto his forearms, fingers grasping wildly at the sheets as he thrust against Dean’s tongue. Dean matched him thrust for thrust, hands planted firmly on Cas’ ass as his tongue licked and kissed and fucked into Cas’ hole.

“Dean, Jesus. Holy fuck, your mouth.” How Cas had gone his entire life and never experienced this was a fucking tragedy, because this was so good. Too good.

And it wasn’t just the fact that Dean was rimming him. It wasn’t the fact that no one had ever done this to him before, or that it was probably the single hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life. It was the fact that Dean was focusing all his energy and attention to giving Cas such pleasure. Cas had never experienced that before, having someone focus so intently on him; it was a little overwhelming.

And to think that Dean just jumped in and did it without hesitation was almost as much of a turn-on as how fucking amazing it felt.

He was getting close, Christ he was getting close, really fucking fast, and Dean hadn’t even laid a hand on his cock. “Oh, Jesus. Oh, Dean, I’m, I’m, holy _fuck_.” Screw the role-playing; he was about to come like a fucking rocket, and didn’t want to pretend any more that anyone but Dean was responsible.

Cas was vaguely aware of moaning that he was about to come when Dean stopped. He stroked his hands lightly along Cas’ back, not quite massaging anymore so much as giving Cas a reassuring touch that he was still there and would continue whenever Cas was ready. Cas panted, forehead against the sheets, willing his breathing to calm down and his orgasm to fade.

“It’s okay, baby,” Dean began to murmur, the scene apparently officially broken. He leaned forward and began to scratch his fingertips lightly against Cas’ scalp, something else which Cas had never experienced but which he was now pretty sure was going to kill him. This, right here was going to be the death of him.

“Oh, god, Dean,” Cas whimpered, sinking further into the mattress, if that was even possible. “Your hands.”

Dean chuckled softly. “You like that?”

“If you stop that, so help me, I will kill you.”

Dean leaned over, propping himself up on one elbow, and draped his chest across Cas’ back. He brought his lips up against the shell of Cas’ ear and whispered softly, his breath tickling Cas’ neck. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere, huh?”

Cas had no words; all he could do was sink bonelessly down into the mattress and sigh. His prior near-orgasm faded, he was now so relaxed that he almost missed the soft touch of Dean’s lips to the back of his neck. But then there it was again, and again, and again, trailing down his neck between his shoulder blades. Dean’s hands left Cas’ scalp and began ghosting down his sides, leaving pimpled gooseflesh in their wake.

It was amazing, the things this man did to him. Just a few hours ago Cas was dead tired, ready to veg out the rest of the night like a zombie. But now all he could think was _Dean_ , and _please_ , and _now_. Dean’s caresses were not enough, and too far away from where Cas now desperately wanted them. His thighs began shaking, his cock hardening once more beneath him. He began thrusting into the mattress, chasing that blessed friction and it was not enough; he needed more.

As if he read Cas’ mind, Dean murmured into Cas’ skin, “Tell me what you want. Anything.”

“In me,” Cas pleaded, unable to manage anything beyond single syllables. “In me. Please.”

Dean placed one last kiss to the small of Cas’ back before grabbing the massage oil and slicking up his fingers and suddenly Cas was filled, and it was heavenly, but it was not nearly what he needed. Dean immediately added a second finger, and _oh god_ , that was better. Cas let out a long, breathy groan as Dean stretched and scissored his fingers, hitting Cas’ prostate every so often but still not enough to get Cas off. It amazed him that Dean had learned his body so quickly, able to keep him on this razor’s edge of not enough.

Cas had no idea how long Dean kept him there; it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. It was long enough that the desperation waned, and he relaxed into the buzz that Dean was building. Dean added a third finger, and the intensity spiked again, but Dean wasn’t in any hurry to speed things along. Dean continued to finger him, slow and deliberate, but Cas was past the point of begging for more. Dean was going to do this at his own pace, and all Cas could do was lie there and enjoy the ride.

And then, without warning, Dean’s fingers were gone, replaced by the insistent press of Dean’s cock against his hole, and holy shit, did Dean just put a condom on with one hand while he was finger-fucking Cas with the other? The thought of Dean rolling the latex on himself, trying his best to stifle the gasps and groans that he surely wanted to make, just to keep Cas guessing as to what was coming next – it was almost enough to tip Cas over the edge on the spot, but Dean was still holding back, not giving him that extra push he needed.

Dean pressed in agonizingly slowly, and Cas wished to God that Dean had built a mirrored headboard so that he could watch Dean’s face as he held himself back from sliding into Cas’ heat all at once. He had never known Dean to be like this, to take things so torturously slow, and it was maddening as much as it was the most erotic thing Cas might ever have experienced. At last Dean’s cock was fully seated inside Cas’ body, and Dean leaned over, draping his body over Cas’ from head to toe.

Every inch of Dean’s body covered him, every point of contact between them lighting a fire within Cas’ belly. Then Dean very carefully slid his arms underneath Cas’ chest and hugged him, until Cas was completely wrapped in Dean’s embrace, both inside and out. Dean began thrusting in a slow, calculated pace while worshipping every inch of skin he could reach with soft kisses, every touch of his lips a prayer silently spoken.

Cas had no idea how long Dean made love to him like that. It didn’t matter; time ceased to be relevant. The only thing that mattered was that his entire world narrowed down to where they were joined. Dean’s arms cradling him, Dean’s chest against his back, Dean’s breath on his neck, Dean’s legs tangled in his own, and yes, Dean’s cock inside him. Cas couldn’t see Dean’s face, couldn’t see the little twitches of his eye that he does, or the way his mouth forms that little “o,” like he’s surprised that this could feel so exquisitely wonderful. He couldn’t see the way the muscles across Dean’s abdomen contract and ripple as his hips undulate. He wouldn’t be able to see Dean’s eyes when he came.

He couldn’t see any of those things that he has come to know and love about being with Dean, but it didn’t matter, because this right here, this was the most intimate they had ever been. Dean made love to him like he never wanted it to end, like he could stay inside Cas forever if he moved slowly and deliberately enough. But between the sweet, insistent friction of his cock against the mattress and Dean’s constant pressing against his prostate, Cas could feel the fire building.

He was already on the edge, so close to falling, but the edge kept moving further and further away. Cas’ legs began trembling, his abdominals quivering with each thrust, his breath punched out of him in little breathy moans as Dean rolled his hips slightly faster, but still that blessed release remained just out of reach. Dean hung his head in the crook of Cas’ shoulder, just barely grazing his teeth against Cas’ skin as he panted against Cas’ neck. Cas wanted to turn his head and pull Dean down into a kiss, but he dare not move. He was spiraling higher and higher; he was close, so close.

It was maddening, his orgasm remaining just out of reach. His moans turned to frustrated whines as the edge of the cliff seemed to move with him the closer he got. Dean’s arms tightened around him, his hips fucking into Cas faster and faster as he chased his own orgasm. Then suddenly Dean’s fingers clenched, pinching Cas’ nipples in that perfect mix of pleasure and almost-pain, and _oh God, fucking finally_ , at last the heat in his belly changed from a torturously low burn to a white-hot fire. He was going to come, sweet Jesus, he was going to come.

It hit him so suddenly, so intensely, that Cas thought he was going to pass out. If he had been able to form coherent words, if his vocal cords had been capable of anything beyond shouting in time with Dean’s continued thrusts, Cas would have begged Dean to stop, to back off, to slow down. It was too much, and _fuck, oh God_ , it just wouldn’t stop. At long, blessed last Dean’s teeth clamped down into the meat of Cas’ shoulder, his arms tightening around Cas’ torso as his hips stilled and he spilled his own orgasm into Cas’ body, and Cas’ own orgasm began to wane.

Dean collapsed on top of Cas, his arms relaxing but not daring to move from underneath Cas. Or maybe he was just too fucking worn out to move, like Cas was. It was several long minutes before either of them could manage anything beyond just lying there in a daze and trying to catch their breath. It was Dean who finally moved first, just barely lifting up enough to slip his arms out and slide his softening cock from Cas’ body, and then he collapsed again next to Cas, spooning up beside him. Cas raised up onto his hip just enough for Dean to wrap an arm around and pull him in the rest of the way.

“What the hell was that?” Dean croaked out at long last.

“That,” Cas panted, “Was probably the hardest I’ve come in my entire life.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“I think I’m gonna be sore for a week.” Cas snuggled up closer to Dean and threaded their fingers together over his belly. “Good thing I don’t do manual labor for a living.”

“Hey, what are you complaining about? I’m the one who did all the work, asshole.” Dean huffed out a laugh against Cas’ neck. “It’s a good thing I’m so much younger than you. I’ll bounce back in no time.”

“ _Five months_ , Dean.”

“Yeah, but that’s five months that I’m a whole year younger.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Cas chuckled.

“What do you mean? It totally works that way!”

“Whatever you say. I’m too fucked-out to argue.”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean laughed and squeezed Cas’ hand. “Hey, Cas? I got a poem for you.”

“This ought to be good.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue. You’re 33, and I’m 32.”

“Not until tomorrow, asshole.” Cas huffed out a laugh. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Coupl’a weeks. And it’s after midnight.” Dean placed a soft kiss on the back of Cas’ neck. “Happy birthday, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> The whole "you're 33 and I'm 32" birthday poem was not written by me, sadly. My uncle wrote it to my aunt when she turned 33.


End file.
